Cliché
by ItWritesStuff
Summary: "It's all so painfully cliché, but damn it she loves every bit of it! She loves him, even if she won't say it and even if he's younger and she legally bound to another. Narcissa will keep Viktor against all odds, for he's the kindest thing life has offered her since the war was lost." Narcissa/Viktor.


A/N: Not sure if I got the rating right. I mean there's adultery and a bit of sexuality, but it's fairly mild compared to most stuff posted here and published outside. I think it'd be a T+, but since we don't have that I'll just keep it M to stay on the safe side. I've never written anything quite like this before so I'm a little nervous, but I also believe that it's important to get out of one's comfort zone every once in a while and to try to write new and especially difficult things.

I know what you're thinking. Viktor/Narcissa. How. _Why._ I promise you I don't intend to scar anyone, I'm honestly just experimenting with scenes I normally avoid writing and with characters I wouldn't ever pair. I wanted an older woman and a much younger man that are likely to meet (or have met) but not so much as to click, so to speak, but I was still nervous about the idea so I decided on two minor characters that people hardly search. Plus it was an opportunity to try my hand at writing Narcissa's character, as I'm already fairly accustomed to Viktor's after making him the shining star of at least 80% of my published work on this site.

I'm sorry, I'll stop now. Hope you enjoy this because chances are I'll never be brave enough to try again :D

* * *

It was all so cliché. The silken sheets, her torn nightgown, his own rather expensive suit unceremoniously left to crinkle on the ground, the bright sun and the singing birds perched by her window. Narcissa gave another deep sigh, possibly the fourth or fifth since she's woken up.

She felt him move behind her. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. "Starting again, without me?" he asked groggily.

She smiled when she felt him kiss her shoulder. "I was thinking."

"Hmm, about what?"

She frowned, and then sat up on her elbows. "What are you still doing here?"

His hand lingered on her stomach, his finger drawing lazy circles on the bare skin. His hair was wildly tousled, his eyes half-lidded and sleepy, and his grin a stinging reminder of his youth. It should make her feel at least a tiny bit ashamed, but they've been doing this for such a long time that it was enough to get her accustomed to the sensation.

There were perks, of course, besides the young and fit sought-after celebrity currently lying naked on her bed. Her favorite besides the sex itself was that the _experience_ , as she'd rather call it instead of it's actual name, distracted her from her duties and got rid of her many insecurities. She had always been conscious of the lines forming around her eyes and mouth, the silver increasing in her golden hair, and of the folded skin on her stomach becoming more prominent with age. She was shy even around Lucius whom she's been married to for a little over two decades, and who is only a year older than her, but somehow with Viktor Krum of all people it was easier to be bold and adventurous.

"I was taking a nap," he said simply. "Last night you were making many… _demands."_

She rolled her eyes at the suggestive smirk. "What did you expect? You were gone for months. You promised me it would only take weeks."

"I know. I'm sorry. I did not think we would win. The new Chasers were terrible at practice."

"Congratulations, by the way."

He shrugged. "I don't care about the European League. It's the World Cup I want."

Now it was her turn to smirk. "So I take it you don't want to be rewarded?"

His eyes looked over her naked form at that, lingering on her ample breasts and darkening with lust. She loved that look most, especially when he unknowingly starts biting his lower lip, for it never failed to make her feel as desired as she were twenty years ago.

She slipped into his arms with a sigh. "So why are you still here?"

"I told you. I was taking a nap."

"It's eight in the morning. My husband will be back any minute now."

 _Another cliché._

"You don't care."

She pulled back to arch a brow at him, but then paused to _really_ think about it. "Huh. You're right. I don't."

"Told you. Also you said he is in Sophia. Floo networks to England don't open until noon. We have time."

He cradled her chin in his hand and pressed his lips to hers. She pulled back just as she was about to slip and completely lose herself again. "Draco. He can't see you."

"Why not? He's my biggest fan, or that's what he keeps telling me."

"How would you feel about your idol fucking your mother in your own bloody house?"

He tutted. He tapped the tip of her nose playfully. "That is not how proper ladies talk."

She smacked his arm reproachfully.

He merely laughed and pulled her closer. "Draco has not been home in _years._ He will not come now and even if he does he will not come into your room without knocking. Pureblood children are always taught to knock before going inside their parents' bedroom, mostly because pureblood parents are kinky and ashamed."

"That's one way of putting it, I suppose..."

He buried his face in her neck. "Come. Don't tell me you've had enough. I've missed you so much, and I also want my reward."

"And you say I'm demanding," she murmured, shivering delightfully when he sneaked a kiss behind her ear. It was a particularly sensitive spot. She guided Lucius on their first night. Viktor found it by chance and he hasn't stopped taking advantage of it since. "Wait, Viktor, how—how strong is the liquor in your country?"

Lucius had taken to drinking lately. Post-war damage control is proving to be a lot harder this time around. The first time it made their marriage stronger, but that's because Draco wasn't born yet and because she herself believed wholeheartedly in their fallen Dark Lord's cause.

"He will be fine," he said, pulling away to look into her eyes. His were entirely black, even under the sun's rays; the exact opposite of her husband's grey ones. He moved the hand tangled in her hair to cup her cheek. "He's a man, not a little boy. He can take care of himself." He smiled. "But he is very lucky to have a wife that worries so much about him."

She snorted rather inelegantly. "While she's fucking a man their son's age in his own bed? Oh yes, he's most definitely lucky."

He frowned. He never liked it when she brought up the age difference or the true nature of their relationship. "I am older than Draco."

"By three or four years, Viktor."

"And you love your husband, Cissa."

She blushed at hearing the nickname, despite him never using any other name for her. He was the only one to call her that. Lucius and her sisters have always called her 'Cissy' or 'Narcissa'. When they first met at a charity gala Lucius had pushed her to participate in as yet another desperate scheme to restore the Malfoy's glorious name, Viktor's accent had made her name sound ugly on his tongue and she was in a bad enough mood as it is. She had crinkled her nose and told him just that. To her shock he had laughed and then apologized, and asked jokingly if she would rather he calls her 'Cissa' instead, to which she replied without really thinking about it that she'd love it if he would.

That's how it all started, but as far as Narcissa is concerned it's ancient history.

"This is just so bloody cliché," she said, and then smiled at his stunned expression. "I meant _me,_ in this particular situation. I'm the bored trophy housewife having an affair with a twenty-six year old athlete while my husband works insane hours to be able to provide this ridiculously luxurious life for me."

He hesitated, and then grabbed her hand holding the rather impressive glittering diamond looped around her ring finger. "This is forever," he explained, looking at the ancient Malfoy heirloom presented long ago as a wedding ring and then back at her. "I am not. One day you will want to go back to this and you will tell me to leave forever." He intertwined his fingers with hers. From an outsider's perspective they would've been mistaken for newlyweds in the way he held her and in the manner in which she was looking up at him. "And when that day comes I will obey and I will wish you well. I will not make trouble. I will not be in the way."

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, releasing another deep sigh. "That's a lovely way of spinning if, Viktor, but I'm far too old to fall for such nonsense. I know I've become my mother, and my cousins and aunts and all of my friends for that matter. I've become every rich pureblood wife that did not choose the Mark."

"And I am happy you didn't," he said, holding her wrist up to plant kisses along the unmarked skin of her forearm. "You have a lovely skin, Cissa. That thing will ruin it."

"Viktor…"

"And you are _nothing_ like those women," he said decisively.

His eyes met hers again, dark and intense against her ocean blues. Then his lips found hers, soft and gentle and unlike the passion-driven kisses he usually showers her with. His hands, large and rough but dexterous and _oh so skilled_ , started roaming the planes of her body and her eyes fluttered in response. She all but moaned when he nipped at the arch of her breast, just above the rosebud peak, another oddly sensitive spot that Viktor knew of and Lucius didn't.

It didn't occur to her that she was crying until she had slithered on top of him with her knees locked on either side of his hips. She probably wouldn't notice if her tears hadn't dripped onto his cheeks, making him freeze and then immediately pull away from her kiss and place both hands on her hips to halt her grinding.

"Cissa," he said, softly and tenderly, the lusty haze in his black eyes clearing in the presence of his evident concern.

"I don't want you to leave!" she confessed rather childishly, all but giving in to her repressed grief and releasing that ugly, 'unladylike' sob her mother hated so much. "Viktor, I never want you to leave!"

It wasn't fair, not for Lucius or Draco and especially not for Viktor. He's young and he's got a whole bright future that a scandalous affair such as this would surely obliterate. He more than anyone deserves a chance at happiness, a _real_ chance at love and marriage and many beautiful black haired and black eyed children with sour faces but breathtaking smiles and golden hearts, but she was Narcissa and Narcissa always was and always will be a selfish woman that will forever lust after things she must never have.

It's all so painfully cliché, but damn it she loves every bit of it! She loves him, even if she won't say it and even if he's younger and she legally bound to another. Narcissa will keep Viktor against all odds, for he's the kindest thing life has offered her since the war was lost.

He rolled them over so that he was on top of her. He kissed her deeply. She clung to him as she would her last lifeline, with her arms like steel cords around his shoulders and her long legs hooks anchoring his hips to hers.

"Then I will stay," he vowed, breathless from the kiss.

She saw him toss something small to the side. She realized upon hearing the sound of the dulled clank against the carpeted floor and the sudden missing weight from her left hand that he had at some point slipped her wedding ring off her finger. She had no time to question the means through which he did it so stealthily, or the motive behind such a gesture, for the same deft fingers had slipped between her legs and the entire world was lost to her.


End file.
